


A Night's Rest

by dr33g



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (no details but thats why its T), Dysphoria, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nudity, Pre-Relationship, Trans Male Character, the game got announced yesterday dont @ me if this fic is wrong when the game comes out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 04:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14927564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr33g/pseuds/dr33g
Summary: Dimitri is overworking himself, and it's making his bad haircut worse.Byleth stops him.





	A Night's Rest

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh fucking gay shit because i love dimitri and no one else does h

Dimitri was training. He had to. His house was falling, they all were, and the religious faction was rising. He wasn’t good enough, he knew, and he had to be better. A better commander, a better lancer, a better lord, a better-

“You’re overworking yourself,” said a deep voice, interrupting his thoughts. He stumbled, but pointed his practice lance at the voice, even though it was recognizable. 

Byleth stood there, expression flat as usual. But… Some part of Dimitri said there was worry in Byleth’s eyes, but Dimitri was just too tired to notice.

(That same part kept him up at night, thinking of the calm timbre of Byleth’s voice, the intelligence in his orders, the fierce determination in his eyes, and the strength in his fighting. Were his lips as soft as his voice in the mornings? Was he as gentle with love as he was with the guides of his hands during training?)

Byleth spoke again, saying, “Training nonstop is bad for the body. You need to rest and recuperate.”

“We don’t have time, Byleth. I must-”

“You must bathe. Your hair is a greasy mess, you smell from over here, there are pit stains in your cape, and you have darker eyebags than me. You are resting. That’s an order, from tactician to lord.”

“You can’t order me around,” Dimitri growled, his grip tightening on his lance.

“Yes, I can. Bathe. You look awful. It’s good for your health.”

“We don’t have the time or the money to waste on such frivolous things.”

“Your health is not frivolous, Dimitri.” Byleth’s eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“I need to train, I-”

“Fine, then. If you can beat my sword with your lance, which has the advantage, then you can continue training. But if I win, you rest, and bathe.”

“Fine, then,” Dimitri grumbled out. He pointed his lance at the ready, and with no hesitation, Byleth unsheathed his sword, and the fight began.

Byleth won in less than half of a minute.

He quickly disarmed Dimitri and held his sword to Dimitri’s throat. He ‘hmph’ed and sheathed his sword without another word. Dimitri’s face fell into one of despair, rage, and pain. He clenched his fists and looked down, unable to make eye contact.

“Imagine if you had gone into battle in this state. You would fall quicker than a glass from a table. You need to rest,” Byleth said, words softer and more gentle than Dimitri could remember hearing. It made him feel warm and cold at the same time. 

“I would fall even rested. I’m not strong enough to guide my troops, I must keep working, I must-”

“You must. Rest.” The glare from Byleth made Dimitri sigh, defeated. Byleth wasn’t his tactician for nothing. 

“Fine.” Dimitri placed the practice lance back in its place on the wall, scowling. 

As he turned to leave, Byleth said, “I’m going with you to be sure.”

“Excuse me?” Dimitri flushed, but frowned still.

“I’m going with you to be sure you actually rest and bathe and don’t just work on strategy until the sun rises.” Dimitri frowned. That had been his plan. He made a growling noise and went to the royal baths, hearing his instructor’s steps echo behind him, the hall silent otherwise in the late night. When they arrived, Dimitri felt the familiar prickle of horror and disgust as he remembered that he had to disrobe. And that others would  _ see _ . He sighed, and began simply, hiding in the corner as he disrobed. First his cloak, then his armor. After he took off his tunic, he heard a sharp intake from Byleth. He winced, knowing exactly what this was about. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to wear your bandages during training. Yes, your ribs can be healed, but if they break during battle and puncture a lung you’ll  _ die _ , Dimitri.”

“I know… It just…” He took a shaky breath in. “It hurts to be without them.” Dimitri heard another sigh as Byleth comes over and began unwrapping the bandages he had around his chest.

“... There’s marks.” Bloody, rubbed raw marks where the bandages wrapped around his skin and chafed. They burned.

“... I know.” Byleth’s lips pressed together as he finished the task, his fingers brushing against the damaged skin. Dimitri’s hands instinctively covered his chest, but he had to finish undressing. “Could you… Go over there.” Byleth nodded and returned to the opposite corner. Dimitri shut his eyes tight and finished the act of undressing, hands returning to his chest the moment he’s done. “I’m… Done.” Byleth turns, looking directly into Dimitri’s eyes and nowhere else. Dimitri does his best to not look at Byleth’s abs. He succeeds. 

“Let’s go, then.” They walked into the bathing room, and Dimitri wasted no time in hopping in as fast as possible. The water was cloudy with oils and salts, so he didn’t feel as nervous. Byleth followed, holding some hair products. “I’m just going to wash your hair. If I make you uncomfortable, tell me.” Dimitri nodded, and slowly felt Byleth begin to massage his head with soap. He was so tired, and it was so soothing, that he fell asleep.

\--

Byleth called for a servant to dress his lord, looking at his clean hair fondly. It was still a mess, but Dimitri had only cut it short two weeks ago, by himself, without a mirror, so it really wasn’t his fault. The servant rushed in and dressed the lord in his night clothes, gently, but efficiently. Finally, after they were both dressed, Byleth dismissed the servant and picked up Dimitri gently, carrying him to his bed, and tucking him in.

It was grossly domestic, but… It didn’t keep Byleth from brushing his lips against Dimitri’s cheek and whispering, “Good night, milord. Dream well.”

\--

The next morning, Dimitri beat Byleth’s axe faster than the fight the previous night. He realized a night’s rest really was what he needed.

Nevertheless, Dimitri decided to let his hair get that gross if it meant Byleth, sweet, handsome, gorgeous Byleth, would wash his hair.

_ ‘Worth it.’ _

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed please


End file.
